


Just Deserts

by Cup_aTea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Established Relationship, M/M, Mandatory Fun Day, Mission Gone Wrong, Sad with a Happy Ending, reconnecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cup_aTea/pseuds/Cup_aTea
Summary: Clint disappeared nearly ten months ago.  Now Tony thinks he’s found him, and Bucky just hopes that whatever they find doesn’t break his heart.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 6
Kudos: 115
Collections: Mandatory Fun Day





	Just Deserts

**Author's Note:**

> This is trope amnesia. No real amnesia research was harmed in the making of this fanfic.
> 
> Written for the Mandatory Fun Day prompt: [Clint with long hair](https://mandatoryfunday.tumblr.com/post/187111190125/winterhawklings). Started writing this when the prompt came out, made myself sad and let it sit in my WIP folder. Now with a happy ending™

The quinjet set down easily, but Bucky’s stomach churned anyway. Tony was so sure he had it right this time, but Bucky couldn't get his hopes up again. 

“Ready to go?” Sam asked.

Bucky nodded as Natasha joined them from the cockpit. 

Outside the jet, the air was cool. Autumn clearly came earlier here than it did in New York City. It was a bit of a hike up the dirt road following Natasha. Bucky was silent as he walked, taking in the trees and wilderness around them.

The scene felt surreal to Bucky’s eyes. There was a cabin in front of them like something from a postcard. To the side stood a woodpile with an axe resting in a stump. On the porch a dog was lying watching them. Its tail thumped a few times against the boards, but it didn’t get up.

When they approached the cabin, the dog barked once. The cabin door opened and Bucky’s breath hitched.

It was Clint, but it was also not. His hair had grown out to his ears, longer than he ever wore it, and he was in a thick cable sweater that was a grey-green color. His eyes, light and clear, held no recognition as he looked out at them. 

He whistled for the dog to come inside, but otherwise didn’t move.

“Frank Barkley?” Natasha asked as they got close. She was using one of her harmless voices, and Bucky wondered if she thought Clint was going to run.

“Yeah?”

“My name’s Natalie and we’re here to talk to you—“

Bucky tuned out the words and focused on Clint’s face. His eyes were narrowed, and Bucky could tell he wasn’t buying the story that Nat was telling.

“We’re here because we used to know you,” Bucky said, out of the blue. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Why?” Clint asked.

“To make sure you’re all right,” said Bucky.

“What’s your name?” Clint asked.

“My given name is James, but most people call me Bucky.”

Bucky saw Clint’s jaw twitch and he stood silent for a long moment.

“Why don’t you folks come in,” Clint said, and gestured them towards the door.

~*~

An hour or so later, and Bucky had to get some air. He excused himself and walked out to the porch where he sat and let his feet dangle off the side. A minute or two later Clint joined him, the dog at his heels.

“What’s the dog’s name?” Bucky asked as the dog flopped down beside Clint and nudge his snout into Clint’s hand.

“Lucky,” Clint said. “It felt familiar. And it seems fitting.”

Bucky swallowed. He sat quietly for a minute and watched Clint pet a one-eyed mutt that walked with a limp, and told himself that feeling replaced by a dog was not helpful.

“So my name is really Clint Barton, and I used to be a special agent that worked as part of an elite group—with superheroes—to get rid of bad guys,” Clint said. 

“Yes,” said Bucky.

“And then I mysteriously got injured, dropped off the radar, and no one’s been able to find me since,” Clint said.

“That’s right,” Bucky said. 

In the cabin, they’d explained to Clint some of who he was and what had happened—what they’d pieced together—on the day he went missing. He’d been in India and ended up in the middle of a riot. He had taken a rock to the head not, Natasha explained, from anyone targeting him in particular, but just from being in the wrong place at the wrong time. His team had lost him in the crowd, and none of Tony’s facial recognition scans had found him anywhere. Their only consolation was that his body was never found either, leading them to hope he was still alive.

A month later, one of his alias’ passports had been pinged leaving the country. They’d followed it Europe, and then the U.S. but then they’d lost him again. 

Clint had explained that after he was healed up, he had headed back to the states. The cities and crowds he had passed through were overwhelming. When he found a state park that was hiring more trail keepers, that offered a place to stay, and cash under the table, he’d taken the job. He’d been living there for months.

“It’s been almost a year,” Clint said now.

“You’re good at keep your face off cameras. I mean, look at where we found you,” Bucky said gesturing at the trees around them.

“Yeah,” Clint said. His fingers tightened briefly in the dog’s fur and then relaxed. “Did you stop looking for me?”

“No,” Bucky said immediately. “SHIELD declared you MIA, presumed dead. But we never stopped looking. Tony’s run himself ragged tracking to find better ways to track you down.”

“And you?”

“I got a little obsessed with it for a while. Steve had’ta…had’ta make me lay off. Reminded me that I couldn’t help you if I didn’t look after myself. But I couldn’t stop wanting to know,” Bucky said.

“I wondered if there were people out there looking for me. People who knew me that I couldn’t remember.”

They trailed into silence for a minute.

“I knew her. The redhead; Natalie or Natasha, or whatever.”

“Yeah, she was one of your best friends,” Bucky said.

“If she’s my friend, why would she lie to me about coming here?”

“Because her best friend disappeared off the face of the earth several months ago, presumed dead, and between you and me, I don’t think she’s been dealing with it very well.”

“And you are?” Clint said, almost angrily.

“I’ve never expected second chances,” Bucky said with a shrug. “I’ve done a lot of fucked up shit in my life, and if this is my penance…Well, at least I know you’re still alive.”

“That’s fucked up,” Clint said. Bucky shrugged again. “Weren’t you the Winter Soldier? Didn’t you have your life messed up by Nazis and your brain messed with? I think that’s penance enough.”

Bucky gave a tight smile. “I’ve missed your logic.”

“Yeah? Was it always this bad?” Clint said. There was a note to his voice that made Bucky’s heart ache.

“Yeah. But don’t worry, it’s part of your charm,” Bucky said. 

Clint gave a rough laugh.

“What now?” he asked. “I don’t think I can go to New York. I don't remember much about the accident, but crowds—not really my thing anymore.”

“You don’t have to,” Bucky said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “You seem happy here. Tony and Steve will probably insist on installing a security system in case you get noticed, but it shouldn’t be a problem for you to stay here.”

“That’s it?” Clint said. He leant back. “You were my boyfriend and you’re just going to cut and run?”

“You’re happy here,” Bucky said helplessly. “You’ve got a dog, and a good job, and a cabin that’s going to need a lifetime’s worth of maintenance.”

“Yeah, but the dog’s no good for conversation,” Clint said. “He’s all ears, but no talking.”

He rubbed Lucky’s ears, and the dog snuffled in his lap.

“Could use someone to talk to,” Clint said, looking out at the trees. “The memories come back in bits and pieces, and I can’t always sort them out. And more of them have come back since the three of you got here than all the months before.”

“Shit, are you okay?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah,” Clint said, “it doesn’t hurt. It’s just confusing. It’d be nice to get another perspective on it once in a while.”

He looked over at Bucky and Bucky held his gaze.

“It’s a small cabin,” Bucky said. “We’d be in each other’s pockets all the time.”

“That’s okay. There’s plenty of space to breath outside. Plus, I’d bet we’ve been in each other’s pockets before.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said quietly.

“Could always use a hand fixing up the place. You were right that it needs a lot of work.”

“You’d never get bored,” Bucky said, eyeing the walls. “You sure?”

“You seem—I can’t explain it right, but you feel familiar. Comfortable. I want to find out why,” Clint said. When Bucky didn’t answer right away, he added, “What do you say? Do you want to stay a while?”

Bucky looked around. At the cabin with it’s loose porch boards. At the one eyed dog sprawled into Clint’s lap. At the trees all around them, filtering the sunlight before it could beat down on them. He took a deep breath, looking at the soft fall of Clint’s hair and the uncertain look in his eyes, and Bucky knew what he wanted to do.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

~*~

Bucky bundled up in a grey sweater to start the coffee. It was Clint’s, so it was stretched in the shoulders and too long in the torso, but importantly it was incredibly warm and kept the godforsaken cold at bay. The thick socks he had on helped too, but Bucky still hated the cold.

He set up the percolator on the stove and tucked his hands into his armpits to wait. 

As he waited for the coffee, the thud of the axe on the stump outside stopped and Lucky gave a happy bark. In another moment, Bucky was greeted with a blast of cold air as Clint ducked through the door with an armload of wood. He whistled for Lucky, who finished a loop through the snow before racing back to cabin. The dog aimed straight for the bed, only turning when both Clint and Bucky scolded him with a loud, “No.” Instead he stopped in front of the stove and shook off in front of Bucky, spraying him with melting bits of snow.

Bucky scowled, shaking his legs to knock the snow off. “Your dog’s a menace,” he said.

“Nah, he’s just enthusiastic,” Clint said with a grin as he fed the fire. 

His cheeks were pink under his tousled hair, and the thick blue sweater he had on made Bucky want to wrap his arms around him. But they weren’t there yet.

They’d gotten closer, and Bucky had spent late nights listening to Clint trying to piece together stories, especially when the cold weather closed in. It wasn’t perfect. Bucky knew Clint had a scar now below his hairline that he liked to hide with his longer hair. He’d seen how tense it was for Clint and Natasha—two people who’d known each other inside and out, and now were trapped in an awkward dance of getting to know each other. 

It wasn’t perfect for Bucky either. Clint had changed and it sometimes surprised Bucky. They both had nightmares and sometimes he still woke up thinking Clint was lost forever. But Clint’s laugh was still his laugh. His wonky sense of reasoning was still intact. He’d taken in a one-eyed dog that no one had wanted without a second thought, and he’d welcomed Bucky into his home with the same earnestness. 

Bucky had meant it when he said he didn’t think he’d get a second chance. That knowing Clint was alive and well without him would be enough. But it turned out they got their second chance anyway, and Bucky was going to hold onto it with all of his might.


End file.
